


like a solar flare in the rising sun

by lazulisong



Series: captive prince [2]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, gonna go to hell it will be fun, leap day!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6138600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazulisong/pseuds/lazulisong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'll give a hundred doves as well, dedicate five hundred pieces of silk, if he can just get out of here without attacking Laurent or embarrassing himself. If he can get Laurent out of this without Laurent becoming the object of the entire troop of mercenaries' attentions, he'll give ten gold cups and fifteen silver bowls to the temple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a solar flare in the rising sun

**Author's Note:**

> y'all can blame regonym and aliassmith for this one
> 
> set after they leave Arles either in the first fort they stay at or Laurent's keep at Acquitart, i think the first one?? anyway happy leap day, will probs write more eventually but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Damen wakes up in the middle of the night hard as he's ever been in his life: there's a smell in the air like pepper and daphne flowers and he wants to get up, find what -- who -- it is, and claim them for his own. His mouth is watering. His cock hurts with the tight beginnings of a knot. He pushes his covers aside and sits up, and realizes, with a suddenness like being doused with ice water, that the delicious scent of fertile and very receptive omega is coming from the bed. 

Laurent's bed, which only has Laurent in it, and Damen needs to breathe something beside that umami richness or he is going to do something and Laurent will flay him alive literally, with a knife, and metaphorically, with words, while the knife is slicing. He can't open the window to let the scent dissipate. There's a breeze tonight and if he opens the window Laurent's scent will spread all over fort and encampment.

Damen faces the fact that he is responsible for the omega prince of Vere's continuing chastity and prays silently but sincerely for death. He doesn't know what he did to deserve this but when he gets back to Akielos -- if he gets back -- he's going to offer ten bullocks and at least fifty sheep to the gods to placate them.

Gods alone know what Laurent is dreaming of, but his body is slack and seems peaceful, although his porcelain skin is flushing like an early rose, and he's kicked off the covers. Damen drags his eyes away from the curve of Laurent's back with an effort.

Damen gets to his feet and plunges his head in the cold water of the basin for a minute until his mind clears. He can think a little, at least. He can't go for help from Jord or any of the other men, and the castle staff is unknown, if presumably fearful enough of Laurent to obey him. He can't leave Laurent alone. He can't stay with Laurent. What did Laurent do before? Omegas usually had heats once a month, didn't they? Damen had never particularly noted any details of the cycles of the slaves: they were in heat, or they were not, and if they were in heat they smelled delightful and were even more yielding and delicious than usual, and one took one's pleasure in them accordingly.

Damen's never responded to an omega like this, though: the protective instincts that an omega in heat make rise up in him are pale things compared to the blinding, blistering need to snug up against Laurent and kiss the sweet curve of his neck, to cover him with his body and knot him until he's full and overflowing with Damen's seed, to hide him in a soft nest and keep everything away from him until he gives birth to Damen's child. He wants to bring him everything he could possibly need. Laurent should have the softest of linens and silks to nest in, fat pillows of goosedown and carpets as thick as grass. 

Laurent will know what to do. It's a piece of irony that even Damen can appreciate, but if a servant walks in unexpectedly, or if, God forbid, one of the soldiers should pass by the door and the scent -- Laurent needs to wake up and deal with it.

"Your highness," says Damen, standing respectfully distant from the bed. "Your highness, you need to wake up."

Laurent stirs a little, not like he's waking but like he's having a very good dream.

"Your highness, please," says Damen, choking on the word.

"Mmm," says Laurent, in a way that blazes down Damen's spine. He wants to cover Laurent and bite his neck until it blooms purple and scarlet. 

"You've got to wake up," says Damen, helpless. "Your highness, you've gone into heat."

"No I haven't, Auguste," says Laurent. His eyes are closed but he rolls his head a little so Damen can see his blond lashes lying like straw against the flush of his cheeks. "Mm, I had a nice dream--"

"Laurent!" says Damen, in desperation.

Laurent opens his eyes. For a second they're a hot, blazing blue like the skies above the summer palace, and then Laurent focuses and says, "What did you --"

"You're in heat," says Damen, staring above Laurent at the wall. He doesn't dare look at Laurent. 

There's a silence, and then Laurent says, "It's all right, it will pass quickly."

That surprises Damen enough that he looks down at Laurent. Laurent is still flushed and ripe as a peach, with lips the clear red of a sweet cherry. The bedclothes are disarranged and barely cover his hips. Through the fine linen of his sleeping shirt, his nipples show clearly, hard and nearly the same color. Damen wants to suck on them until Laurent puts his hands in Damen's hair, sighs out deep with pleasure, and lets Damen bear his weight down to the bed. It does not look like a heat that will end soon. "But --" he begins.

"I'm not a child," says Laurent crushingly. "Do you think I don't know how my heats will go?"

No, you're not, thinks Damen, and then, aloud, "What do you need? Shall I fetch Paschal?"

Laurent stills, the way he does when Damen says something unexpected, and he looks up at Damen through his eyelashes. He doesn't say anything for moment longer, while Damen grits his teeth through the rising scent of Laurent's heat and prays for mercy. He'll give a hundred doves as well, dedicate five hundred pieces of silk, if he can just get out of here without attacking Laurent or embarrassing himself. If he can get Laurent out of this without Laurent becoming the object of the entire troop of mercenaries' attentions, he'll give ten gold cups and fifteen silver bowls to the temple. He'll figure out a way to make Laurent pay for them. Somehow. 

"No," says Laurent, still looking at Damen intently. "No, there's nothing I want from you now."

"I'll just --" says Damen, and motions toward the bathing room. 

"Thank you," says Laurent, extra sweet and dripping honey, and Damen flees toward the bathing room for a basin of cool water like the hounds of hell are after him.

**Author's Note:**

> ✧　  
> ⊹ ˚ 　　　　  
> ✵ ˚ WELCOME　　　 . 　 　  
> 　 　 TO THE  
> DUMPSTERRRRRR　　　　 ˚ 　　　　　 　　  
> ✧ 　 + 　✵ 　  
> 　 　　 　　　　 ·  
> 　 ✫


End file.
